


Cherry Wine

by Alison_Ocean



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fanfiction, Hozier in the Kastle Week, Kastle Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alison_Ocean/pseuds/Alison_Ocean
Summary: She nearly jumps out of her skin when a hand suddenly tightens around her left arm. She starts and looks up. The first thing her eyes register is tawny skin beneath a black baseball cap. A yellowing bruise floats over a prominent cheekbone.Speaking of ruthless.





	

Karen isn’t sure whether her adrenaline is beginning to lag already or if she is just out of shape. As she all but sprints around another corner she has to fight to moderate the huge, gulping breaths she is sucking in. The center of her forehead is still singeing like a burn where it made contact with the man’s jaw. She is going to have a bruise. She feels trickling, warm wetness on her chin and her hand flashes up, only to come away with blood. She runs her tongue over her lower lip and feels a blossoming welt, slightly tender to the touch. She must have cut it when she headbutted the bastard. She distractedly wipes at her chin with one hand and shoots a glance behind her as she spills from the alleyway into the street.

They had come out of nowhere and cornered her just two blocks from the office. Apparently sniffing around the Irish gang’s most recent shipping acquisitions gets you immediately added to the list of people that need intimidating. One of the men had taken the lead, and he’d managed to get her hands pinned behind her against a wall while his buddy watched. He was going for a knife when she’d had the brilliant idea to use her skull as a weapon. The throbbing ache mocks that decision with every step now, but at least it paid off. The man had been shocked enough to loosen his grip for a second, and she’d managed to wriggle away and had taken off at a dead run.

The sound her heels make on the pavement as she steps on to the sidewalk is immediately swallowed by the raucous laughter and shouting from the Friday night bar crowds that are milling in the busy streets. As she comes into the light, she makes a beeline for the thickest group of merrymakers. Her hands are shaking as she fumbles in her bag for something to blot her lip with, and she steals another glance behind her. She hadn’t gotten a good look at either man – alleyways don’t afford the best light – and she isn’t certain she’d even recognize them if they were following her. Nevertheless her eyes keep scanning, though she doesn’t even know what she’s looking for. The crowd is closing in around her and the feeling of claustrophobia is only being kept at bay by the fear of being spotted by ruthless eyes.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when a hand suddenly tightens around her left arm. She starts and looks up. The first thing her eyes register is tawny skin beneath a black baseball cap. A yellowing bruise floats over a prominent cheekbone. _Speaking of ruthless._

“One at your six and one at your four.” Frank Castle’s voice is a low rumble, and his eyes are scanning the street in front of them. Karen looks back behind her again. This time her eyes know where to go, and she quickly finds the two men. Both are edging slowly through the throng, clearly trying to not attract attention. She feels her stomach drop. Both are looking in her direction.

Karen glances at Frank and registers for the first time his cold, predatory demeanor. She is momentarily distracted by yet another wave of anxiety. They are in a crowd of people, what exactly is he planning?

As if he’s hearing her thoughts, Frank’s eyes dart to her. The coldness seems to seep away and there’s a sudden flash of uncertainty there. He seems to consider his options. 

“Your scarf.” He finally jerks his chin towards the midnight blue fabric hanging limply around her neck. “Cover your hair.” He lets go of her arm as they walk so she can quickly twist the fabric around her hair. He catches her arm again as soon as she finishes.

“This way.”

She almost loses her balance as he swings hard to the right, pushing her past a large crowd and beneath the shadowed overhang of a bar.

.

She is a warm breath behind him as he pulls her back past the bar and into the adjacent alley. Dead end. He doubles back and stops in the shadows, drawing her back against the wall. From here, the view of the street is partly obscured by a crowd of bystanders. However, they’re both still clearly visible to anyone who’s actually looking. He drops her arm and steps in front of her.

He can feel the tremor in her hands as she rests them lightly on his back and peeks around his shoulder. He knows the second she spots the men because she goes completely still.

They’re nearly on top of them, and he knows that they’re going to look where they last saw her disappear. He knows that they’d have to be doing a poor job to not notice him standing back here; to not notice what he’s protecting. Part of him wants them to notice. Let’s get this done quick.

He reaches for the KA-BAR sheathed in his jacket, but before he can palm it she’s suddenly yanking at his arm with a surprising amount of force.

“Wait. Frank, _wait._ ”

He looks down in surprise and she’s staring up at him intently. Her blue eyes are stretched wide with fear, but her jaw is set in determination. The next words out of her mouth steal any retort he may have had prepared.

“Kiss me.”

For a second he’s actually too stunned to respond. He just stares at her in confusion. Her eyes move restlessly from his face to focus on something just over his shoulder, then flash back to him.

“Oh, for the love of god–”

She stops waiting for an answer. The last word disappears into his mouth as she grabs his shoulders and inelegantly hauls him closer, crushing her lips against his. His hands automatically come to rest on her waist as he tries to keep his balance, in more than one sense. It takes a second, but his mind belatedly makes the connection. _Camouflage._ No one looks twice at a couple of drunks rounding first in the shadows. Not the direction he would have gone with this, but if there’s anything he knows from experience it’s that Karen Page is more than capable of making her own judgement calls.

Since she’s taken the decision out of his hands, he has no choice but to commit to it. That’s what he tells himself as he grips her waist tighter and turns fully around so that his body can stay between her and the street. She’s nipping at his lower lip and her hands have slid down from his shoulders to clutch his upper arms. He feels the little pinpricks of her fingernails through his clothing. He can’t tell whether she’s holding herself close or trying to keep him from turning around. Either way, he’s beyond caring.

The wild scents of honey and lavender swirl around her like a cloud, and he inhales deeply as he invades her space. The alley wall is behind her, and he follows the curve of her back with one hand, slowly molding her to the line of his body. He attempts to make this look convincing, while trying not to get lost. She’s kissing him like he’s the air in her lungs, but despite her bravado, he can feel her jaw trembling with cold fear. An overwhelming surge of tenderness hazes out all other thought. He cradles her face in his hands, smoothing his thumbs across her cheekbones, simultaneously obscuring her features and trying to soothe. _I’m right here._ He says it the only way he can. _I’m right here._

She wobbles slightly on the balls of her feet, her balance put off by her hold on him. He lets one hand skim down the length of her body, and gently grips her thigh just above the knee to steady her. She surprises him by suddenly gasping in a heavy breath. As she inhales, the contours of her body expand to fill the hollows in his. _Shit_.

He feels his body respond to her like a starting gun. His mind flies apart – guilt, anxiety, rage, longing all shouting to be heard above the noise. His muscles tense and desire, hot and insistent, pulses behind his eyes. He tastes blood in his mouth and belatedly remembers the cut on her lip. It’s sweet and acrid, like cherry wine, and he can feel himself getting drunk on her. His fingers itch to bury themselves in her silky blonde mane, his body throbs in response to the torture. He barely manages to pull away before the waves close in over his head.

.

Frank rips away from her and she almost loses her balance and falls. The masculine blend of coffee and mouthwash is still sizzling on her tongue. Her blood is racing, boiling beneath the surface, and it’s not just the adrenaline that’s doing it. This may not have been her best idea. But it’s not like she was going to let him _gut two men_ just beyond a street crowded with witnesses. Blending in was their best option. She just didn’t realize 30 seconds ago what the consequences of the act might be. Her body buzzes.

She braces her hands on her knees and gasps the beer-clowded air. She looks up at him, wondering if he’s as rattled as she is. He’s scanning the crowd; their little display has passed mostly unnoticed by the gently shifting throng. He isn’t reaching for a weapon. She takes it as a positive sign – the men must be gone. Their diversion must have worked. After a long moment, he turns back to her. She hadn’t noticed before, but his breaths are coming fast, like hers. She can feel her eyes wide, her mouth gaping as they stare at each other. Her scarf has come undone and she knows her hair must be a tangled mess. She swallows and tries to compose her expression.

He looks at her for a moment, and his eyes are fathomless. Uncertain. Then he seems to clear his head and the corner of his mouth draws up as he cracks a humorless smile.

“Not bad.” His words are clipped with annoyance but also, she thinks, begrudging approval.

She realizes he’s paying her a compliment, or something close to it. She forcefully wrangles her composure and straightens.

“Yeah.” She shoots him a look that says,  _obviously._ Suddenly exhausted, she pushes off the brick wall and walks past him. “I think you owe me a drink.”


End file.
